


Your Choice

by gandalfthesassy



Series: The Monkees Reader-Inserts [10]
Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 07:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11687403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gandalfthesassy/pseuds/gandalfthesassy
Summary: You need to have sex to curb the effects of a love potion. The Monkees offer their services.This is sort of a choose-your-own-adventure type thing, where you have four options for how to end the story. Nothing too kinky or weird. Sort of treads away from the canon of the show into their real-life personalities.





	1. The Offer

In your defense, you’d put your drink in the fridge. You didn’t think anyone else would use the same kind of cup you did. But as you chatted about nothing with Micky and Peter, you downed what you _thought_ was the rest of your drink from dinner. Your face contorted; you’d swallowed before you could identify what exactly it was. (Story of your life.)

Micky stopped chatting when he saw your expression. “Hey (y/n), you alright there?” You stared at him. He slipped his hand over his mouth in what you figured was an attempt to stop laughing.

“That was gross,” came your reply. “It tasted... _purple_.”

“Purple?” echoed Peter. “What do you mean it tasted _purple_?”

Just as you were about to say that yeah, the only word for it was “purple,” a chill ran through your body, followed by a wave of heat. You couldn’t help shivering then wiping your forehead. “God, what did I drink?”

“Oh shit,” Micky leapt up from his spot at the table and came face-to-face with you. “(y/n), let me see that.” You handed him the cup and he looked down at it, then up at you. He wasn’t laughing at all. Actually, he looked really concerned. “And you drank _all_ of it?”

“I-I thought it was mine,” you defended yourself as the heat dragged towards your groin. “I’m sorry, Micky, I didn’t look.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he assured you, though his brow knit together. “Don’t panic, but you just drank one of my experiments.”

“Am I gonna die?!” you panicked, your throat crawling. The heat in your groin began to press on you more.

“No,” Micky assured you, “it’s not lethal. It’s more like, like a mood changing drink, like you know how people take drugs to help their anxiety or depression. It’s sort of like that.” You glared at him. “Well, it wasn’t finished!”

“Mick, don’t get mad, they didn’t know any better.” The two of you glanced across the room to see Mike, joined moments later by Davy.

“I’m not mad, Mike, I’m freaking out!” Micky walked a few steps towards him.

“Well don’t freak out then,” replied Mike, trying to get Micky to cool it without losing his own.

“Micky,” Peter spoke up, “what did (y/n) drink?”

“It was…(y/n), I’m so sorry,” you watched as Micky paced near you. “I should’ve moved it, I-I was gonna finish it tonight but I got wrapped up in writing music.” You could barely stand at this point, the heat in your crotch was almost painful. You leaned your hands against the counter dividing the kitchen from the dining table.

“Micky, what’s going on?” Davy pressed, moving closer, but Mike caught his arm and stepped in front. Davy backed off, but he still looked utterly lost. You wished you could say anything helpful to him. Mike came over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, but you flinched away, his hand cold on your burning skin.

You knew what had happened, but you were afraid that if you opened your mouth, you’d make unseemly noises in front of your closest friends. Some things, you reminded yourself, are best left behind closed doors.

“It’s a love potion,” Micky admitted, humiliation dripping from his voice. “It’s, I mixed the _good_ love potion from my experiment two weeks ago, and I started adding more, uh...I added Viagra.”

“How much did you add?” Davy demanded.

“Davy, _don’t_ ,” Mike hissed, still hovering near you. His nervous energy was feeding your own raw sexual energy. He really wasn’t helping.

“You mean you left a drink that makes you aroused in the fridge, where _any one of us_ could grab it by accident, and now (y/n) is suffering the side effects? What if it doesn’t wear off?!”

“I added like a quarter of a pill, okay?!” Micky yelled, his face wrinkled with guilt. He couldn’t even face Davy. “If one pill makes you horny for four hours I figured a quarter would be--”

“One hour,” Peter finished, somehow still calm. “Well, okay.” He got to his feet, glanced at everyone in the room, and breathed. “So, (y/n) is going to be aroused for the next hour.”

“I’m sorry, Mick,” you choked out, trying to fight through the fog of desire. You could feel Mike’s hand hovering near your shoulder blades but he didn’t dare touch you again.

Peter spoke over Micky’s protests. “It’s not your fault, (y/n), and neither is it yours, Micky. None of us are at fault. It’s embarrassing, but it’ll wear off, right?” He looked at Micky, who nodded quickly.

“Yeah, it will.” Micky looked over at you. “And I think having some, you know, ‘alone time’ might help relieve the pain. I uh, I had a prototype of this a while ago and I had this happen. That’s what worked for me.”

Peter perked up at this. “Hey, that gives me an idea. Mike, c’mere, tell me what you think.” You watched Mike walk over to Peter. The two of them whispered for a few moments. Then they both nodded and turned to Davy and Micky.

“You two, you’re in this plan too,” Mike waved them over. They joined the others. You rubbed your thighs together for some friction, but it didn’t relieve any pain or hotness. You slowed your breathing, trying to gain control of _something_. You felt like you were fourteen again.

After what felt like an hour (but was only a minute), they all came up to you and stood on the other side of the counter.

“(y/n), we want to help you out, if you’ll let us,” proposed Davy.

“We know you feel embarrassed, so we’re going to let you have some time in this room by yourself,” Mike continued.

“But if you want our help,” Micky jumped in, “we’re each going to be in different places in the house. And if you come to one of us, the rest won’t bother you. We promise.”

“Cross our hearts, hope to die,” Davy agreed.

“It’s entirely up to you,” Peter wrapped up, “and we understand if you don’t need us, but if you need a second pair of hands, we’ll be on the other side of our doors.”

“Where will you all be?” you asked, surprised and touched by the offer but still foggy.

“I’ll be on the balcony, out of sight, so if you do give up you won't have me staring you down,” Peter responded.

Mike told you he’d be in his bedroom, Davy said he’d be hanging out in his and Peter’s room, and Micky blushed as he pointed to his secret little room where many of his inventions were born. You thanked them and they all dispersed, not saying another word, but certainly not judging you. When they were all gone, you breathed a little easier.

You knew you couldn’t get through this on your own. You thought, while heading towards the door of your choice, “What have I got to lose?”

~~

For _Davy Jones_ , proceed to **Chapter Two**. 

For _Mike Nesmith_ , proceed to **Chapter Three**.

For _Peter Tork,_ proceed to **Chapter Four**.

For _Micky Dolenz_ , proceed to **Chapter Five**.


	2. Davy/Reader - Cuddly Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You chose Davy.

You threw open the door to Davy’s room, done with any kind of pretense. As soon as you spotted the love of your life perched at the window, you pulled off your shirt and went over, with no warning, ready to take his little body into your arms and ravish him.

“(y/n), wait!” he squeaked, ducking underneath you and backing away. You faced him, confused and aroused. Your chest heaved as you blinked roughly. “I-I’m sorry, I know that if you’re here it means you trust me, and maybe you even _like_ me, but we can’t go it like this.”

“Why not?” you demanded, more harshly than you meant. He flinched at your tone, looking ashamed for some reason. “Davy, are you a virgin?”

“No! No, not at all,” he breathed, though you didn’t totally buy it. “But I just...I want to help, but I can't help if we just... _do it_.”

“You want foreplay.” He blushed. The poor boy couldn’t even _look_ at you. “Not foreplay?”

“I uh... _well_.”

“Are you sure you’re not a virgin?” you teased. “It’s alright if you are, babe. No judgment here.” He met your eyes.

“I just, I had this idea. If you’ll humor me, that is.”

“If it means we can fuck, then sure, I’ll get as kinky as you want. I’m down for anything.”

“(y/n)!” Davy blushed when you winked at him. “It’s nothing like that, I just, I was wondering if I could give you a massage.” That wasn’t as bad as you’d suspected. Your mind had gone to kinkier places when he’d hesitated. A massage was nothing in comparison.

That being said…did he know that was exactly what you’d thought about? You’d had an oddly specific (and incredibly erotic) dream about him, and, well, it started just like this. He even asked you in the dream. You wondered for a moment if you were psychic but figured it was a fortunate coincidence.

“That sounds nice,” you agreed, smiling and sitting on his bed. You didn’t mind humoring him. He wasn’t like a kid or anything, but he had this eagerness about him that you found irresistible. Davy took a seat behind you. You heard him crack his knuckles and stretch his hands a bit. You couldn’t lie, every second he wasn’t touching you felt longer than the last. So you spoke: “Whenever you’re ready, babe.”

He giggled. “There’s something about you calling me ‘babe,’ I like it. It sounds divine when you say it.”

“You can make me feel divine too, Davy,” you encouraged him. “Come on. I think I’ll pass out from all this tension in my neck…” Before you could tease further, his hands began to massage your neck and back. He seemed shaky and unsure for a while, but the more you melted and moaned into his touch, the more confident his hands got, and the more you felt some of your pain disappear.

At one point you let out a moan so loud and unexpected that you clapped your hands over your mouth. Suddenly, you felt lips on the back of your neck. A pleased shiver went down your spine and you groaned softly. “Is that good?” you felt his warm breath on your neck, and your skin rose with goosebumps. You nodded.

“I’m just picturing you making love to me, babe,” you drew out the final word when his hands found a sweet spot on your neck. “I know you wanna take it slow, and I totally understand, but God I need to fuck someone, and I want you to be that someone.”

“I will, I promise,” said Davy, moving to your side. He took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back, tilting your head so you could kiss as deep as possible, swallowing every moan that passed between you two. Your hands found your way to his back and you ran them all across his shirt, feeling the fabric as if you’d never felt it before. Everything you touched came to life beneath your fingers. But it was _still too slow_. You looped your fingers under his belt loops and pulled him to you, his crotch brushing against yours. He gave a little gasp of surprise, to which you both blushed, him going redder than you.

“Too slow,” you whined.

“(y/n), I don’t think we can do this…”

“Why?” you raised an eyebrow as you teased him, untucking his shirt and sticking your hands down the back of his pants. “Are you too big for me?”

“No, no! Not at all! I just...you’re under some kind of influence, you’re acting weird, I don’t think…” You pulled your hands out.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Just for a moment.” The two of you sat for a moment. You rubbed your thighs together impatiently. Davy collected himself. “Can I touch you? Properly. Like, you just lie back and I make you feel good?” You knew he played up some of the innocence around others, but his eyes shone with the authenticity you’d only seen a few times.

“Yeah,” you breathed, so softly that Davy didn’t hear you. He tilted his head slightly. You repeated with more force: “ _Yes_. That’s why I came in here. Davy, babe, I trust you. But only if you’re comfortable with it, okay?”

He nodded. “Just lie back and relax. Davy’s got you.” You snickered, but you obliged. You kicked off your pants and threw off your shirt. As soon as you were mostly exposed, his hands spread and stroked across your skin, his eyes and touch worshipping you. You watched for a while. Something about him becoming intimate with your body not only turned you on but it fascinated you. Your head finally fell back as his hands trailed to your thighs and you spread your legs, craving the release of all this tension.

“You’re wearing too much clothing,” you blurted. His hands stilled. You picked your head up to glare playfully at him. “I’m basically naked and you look like you just walked in. At _least_ show me what you’re working with.”

He laughed at that, perhaps in embarrassment or in relief (you were too hot to care). He undid his pants and dropped them off the side of the bed. You gazed shamelessly at his dick through the fabric of his underwear. You could fit him, but you were actually a little surprised. Somewhere in your tiny brain you’d filed Davy away as one of those guys who had to compensate for _something_. You couldn’t be more wrong.

“This is it,” he gestured, a little awkwardly, to what you were checking out. You would’ve eased the tension with a joke, but you could feel tears of shame and pain in your eyes. Patience seemed an impossibility.

“Come on, Davy,” you practically begged. “I wanna have sweet sex with you. Like, cute sex, awkward sex, kinky sex, don’t give a fuck. I’m fine to spoon or whatever afterwards but I can’t fucking think straight.”

“You don’t have to,” he assured you, gaining some confidence as he pulled off his shirt and _finally_ got his underwear off. He positioned himself above you, a hand caressing your cheek as you felt his length brush against your entrance. “Don’t think at all, (y/n). Just be here, with me.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you told him. “But shut up and fuck me.”

He didn’t have to hear that twice. He thrusted into you, making you groan in surprise. Your body accommodated him as he continued thrusting. Your hips rocked up, at first unconsciously and erratically, but soon the two of you pushed against each other in sync and your lips pulled and sucked at the other’s.

As he got close, he told you he was, but his thrusting started to become more desperate, more needy, and he breathed and moaned into your shoulder. You threaded your fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek, cooing at him with what you hoped were actual words. You reached your other hand down to get yourself to his level, which didn’t take too long. Within seconds, he’d come inside of you. Instead of him passing out, you felt him take over masturbating you so that you climaxed not long afterwards. He thrust a few more times, riding out the feeling. You pressed yourself against his hand with a sigh.

Finally, he did relax on top of you, flopping to your side ungracefully. His chest heaved and his arms rested on either side of his head. You looked over at him. He turned away, which made you pout, but he spoke: “I think I’ve lost all feeling in my legs.” You giggled. From behind, you wrapped an arm around him and pressed your crotch against his ass. He looked back at you, face still red. “You okay?”

“Am I _okay_?” you repeated. “I feel fucking amazing.”

“You’re just saying that,” he turned back around, hugging himself. “You want me to feel better about an awkward first time.”

“Bullshit. I came in here because I know you love me more than you’d like to admit.” He protested but you continued. “And I do too.”

He looked at you again, wary but attentive. “You love me?”

“Of course. Romantically, sexually, platonically, the whole works. You’re one of the best people I know. And yeah, first times are awkward, but…I never feel embarrassed around you. I never feel like I have to be someone cooler than myself to be your friend. Because you accept my weirdness, even if you react to it. I’m sorry if I pushed you.”

“I don’t think you did.” He rolled over to face you. “You stopped when I was basically saying ‘no’ and you waited. Even though you were bursting with...with, you know, sexual energy. Is that better, love? Are you, you know…”

“I think that whole thing helped. All I’m feeling is tired. The pain’s almost gone.”

“Well, we spent long enough getting to the good part,” Davy joked, “I figure it must be.”

“Hey.” He looked at you. You looked back, unable to hold back a goofy smile. “It was worth it, babe. You’re beautiful to me.”

“No, _you’re_ beautiful,” he retorted.

“We’re both beautiful! Glad we could settle that,” you droned, and the two of you laughed. After you regained your composure, neither of you said another word. But you did pull him in closer so you two could cuddle.

There was some tangling and rearranging of limbs, but eventually the two of you had found a reasonable cuddling position beneath the covers. The room around you faded as you fell asleep, feeling like you’d finally found someone who wanted the best for you, someone who would love you more than you could love him. Your time had finally come, but for a while, you slept alongside him, blocking the world from messing with anything you two had found together.


	3. Mike/Reader - Mom and Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You chose Mike.

You bounded up to Mike’s room, the spiral staircase a monumental obstacle in your way. Somehow it made you even hotter, and not in a good way. Your belly was ready to catch on fire, your crotch painfully hot. You tripped over the final step, nearly negating your progress and falling down those stairs.

When you finally reached his door, you groaned and slid down onto the floor. You didn’t even know if you could get in. You had to have _some_ skin-to-skin contact or you’d cry.

Fuck it, you decided. You didn’t need anyone, not even Mike. You were already embarrassed, why make it worse?

You scooted over to position your back against the closed door. You undid your pants and pulled them down enough, then you pulled down your underwear and touched yourself. Even with your already-burning crotch, you were shocked at how your hands scorched every place your fingers could touch. Still, your desperate brain kept them going, kept them moving.

It took you a good fifteen minutes of flailing around your crotch with burning hands before you realized you’d made no progress. You dragged the back of your hand across your forehead and panted. Real sweat glistened on your hand. Jesus, you couldn’t think of any other time you were this desperate. A pathetic loneliness fell over your face.

The tears that fell moments later mingled with the sweat on your cheeks, but you were too freaked to wipe them away. You called out with what voice you could manage: “Mike?”

A few seconds of silence. Then the door opened behind you. With as much grace as a bird with broken wings, you fell into the room, bonking your head on the ground. You made a little noise, more of surprise than actual pain. And suddenly those cold hands were on your shoulders, and a voice joined them: “(y/n), you’re okay, you’ll be okay.” You sniffled as you wiped your nose.

“I couldn’t do it,” you confessed, your voice dripping with humiliation. “I can’t. I tried everything I knew and I can’t. It hurts, Mike.”

“I’m here for you,” he said softly, taking your undoubtedly gross expression in stride. You pulled your pants back up as you blushed. Mike helped you to your feet and guided you towards his bed.

Lately, you two had taken to chatting when “the kids” (the other guys) had gone to sleep. (After all, you were sort of the counter-parent to Mike’s dad-like personality.) You’d usually stay awake into the wee hours of the morning. As a consequence, you’d heard some of Mike’s deepest regrets, fears, and dreams, and he’d heard yours. Hell, you’d even talked one night about your sexual fantasies. There was admittedly some crossover, much to your embarrassment (and lowkey surprised delight). Suffice to say, you two had an unbreakable trust between you. But as he sat you down on the side of the bed, all you could think was: “We’ll never come back from this.”

You tried to wipe your face, but suddenly Mike’s fingers, the tips calloused from playing guitar, ran across it and got rid of some of the sweat and tears. He wiped them on his pant leg and took your face in both hands. He knelt on the floor in front of you. “(y/n),” he spoke just above a whisper, “I am so, so sorry you feel like this. I’ll do whatever you need me to do."

“I wish I knew,” you felt a few new tears pool at the bottoms of your eyes. “But I trust you, okay? Just, please, make this feeling go away.” He nodded dutifully and left a lingering kiss on your mouth.

You didn’t look, but you felt him climb onto the bed and straddle you from behind. You heard a rustle of clothing, and then he threw his shirt to the other side of the bed. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed up and down your neck. Your breathing evened out and you relaxed back into him, delighted by how you could feel every muscle in his torso. His hands began to move carefully then, sneaking underneath your own shirt and teasing your burning skin as he kept worshipping your neck. Somewhere in your more rational mind, you remembered how you’d teased him for having cold hands, but now they soothed and cooled you with every tender touch. Your hips rolled in an unconscious movement and he hummed. Encouraged, you laid your head back on his shoulder and grinded back into him. He moved away from your neck long enough to sigh and say: “That’s it, you’ve got it. Where do you want me to touch?”

“Just... _fucking hell_ , Mike,” you hissed, annoyed that he’d stilled his movements. “I don’t know, okay?! It hurts!” You scolded yourself in your head as you started crying again, but Mike simply propped his head up on your shoulder.

“Tell me about that dream you had last week,” he requested.

You blinked. “ _What?_ ” Mike’s hands trailed down your back. You pressed into them slightly, enjoying the sensation. You left your own hands on your thighs.

“You know, the one with the haze and then that handsome guy appeared and made love to you. You never finished telling it.”

“It never,” you paused as you lifted up your pelvis so you could take off your pants and underwear, “it never actually ended. I woke up to Davy and Peter freaking out about some new show they watched.”

“Then tell me what you remember,” he caught you off guard with a sudden brush of his hand against the most sensitive area of your crotch. You gasped, too desperate now to be embarrassed.

“I was...I was just wandering through this fog,” you explained between groans and moans as Mike did to you what you’d been trying to do before. Now the difference between your bodies _really_ mattered, because as his hands worked on you, your temperature tried to return to normal. “Then this gorgeous man comes out of the fog…” You trailed off as he did something you’d never tried but made you let out a sound that you’d never heard yourself make before.

“What’s he look like? Tell me about him,” came Mike’s voice, losing some of its detached coolness and taking on a bit more of your own hotness.

“Tall, dark, handsome, all that. Wavy black hair, cute little mouth, skinny as a beanpole, with magic fingers…and he found every spot that made me giddy and kept going for what felt like a lifetime.”

“Like this?” His fingers teased your entrance and you cried out with more volume than you thought you had in you.

“Oh God, Mike, _please,_ I didn’t want to tell you that dream,” you blurted. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Because it’s about me?” You nodded.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted you to know. But I’ve wanted this for so long, it only seemed fit that you do this for me.”

“You’re not the only one who’s dreamed about this, you know. I love you so badly, but I never thought you’d want me the same way so I kept my mouth shut. (y/n), I want you to feel fucking _incredible_ ,” he declared. “Do you want me?”

“God yes. I do. I just want you right now, I don’t give a shit how rough you want it, just make me feel good. Give me your fingers.” He obliged, and you popped them into your mouth, letting your tongue run over the lines in his skin. You felt him breathe heavily onto the back of your neck and you took them out again. “Fuck me, Mike. Fuck me like you fantasized about.” And he inserted one finger, making your toes curl. He added another, then another, and you groaned in pleasure.

You could feel your entire being rising higher and higher, but orgasm eluded you. One of your moans came out as a choked sob.

“(y/n)?” Mike checked in.

“I can’t do it,” you shook your head languidly. “It’s, I can’t come, it’s impossible.”

“You _can_ ,” he disagreed, still moving. He pumped his fingers in and out of you faster and faster. You gave another part of your crotch more attention and the rising continued. “You know you can. You’re the sweetest, best-looking, and smartest person I’ve known in a long time, and the sounds you make are fucking beautiful. Even when you’re desperately horny you’re beautiful to me.” You could only cry out in ecstasy as your orgasm snapped like a guitar string. You thrusted against his fingers as you rode out the last few moments of utter joy.

When you finally went still and calm in his arms, Mike pulled out of you and rested his head on your shoulder. You leaned back and did the same, draping an arm lazily over one of his shoulders. The two of you sat together for a few minutes, panting and laughing a little. The pain was much less present now, only a tiny pool below your stomach. Finally, your voice returned just enough to ask something. “You’ve dreamt about this?”

“Not intentionally,” muttered Mike. “It just happened, not like _this_ but it was definitely you. When I woke up, I uh…I went and jerked off on the balcony.”

“Every time I’ve done that,” you jumped in, “I thought about you.”

“Same here,” he admitted with an embarrassed laugh. You lifted yourself up enough to turn to face him. His pants looked a little tighter around the crotch than they had earlier.

“You want some help with that?” you raised an eyebrow. He crossed his legs.

“You’re up for another round?” he clarified.

“Well, not right now. But if that’s still a problem in an hour or so, you can bet I’ll be returning the favor.” He laughed, showing all of his teeth, and he dipped his head.

“If I knew you enjoyed sex this much, I would’ve told you I loved you sooner.”

“I had no idea I _could_ feel so good,” you winked. “I wasn’t kidding about those magic fingers. You’re hard to resist, babe.” You interlaced your fingers with his.

“Well, I can’t believe you’ve never been loved that good before,” he told you, his nose bumping yours. “You deserve to feel that good every day.”

“You do too, Mikey.”

“Can we just…”

“Yeah. I love you. I don’t think I wanna move.” You looked at your body. “I don’t know if I can. I think my legs have passed out.”

“I’ll carry you if that’s what I gotta do.”

“My hero,” you rolled your eyes and the two of you giggled. As if you hadn’t just shared such a private moment, you chatted well into the night. By the time you both crawled into bed at 3:30am, still half-naked, you’d agreed to date more properly from then on--and there were to be no more weird drinks in the fridge.


	4. Peter/Reader - Weird Noises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You chose Peter.

You’d done it with Peter before. Actually, the two of you kind of had a thing, and you didn’t have a name that fit but you were physical with him. You’d tried some weird shit with him. Some stuff worked, some didn’t. There was still some shit you hadn’t gotten around to yet. Suffice to say, neither of you were opposed to this whole thing.

So why did you hesitate so strongly before you got onto the balcony?

After all was said and done and the experiment had run its course, Micky would probably ask how you went about dealing with it (code for, who’d you sleep with). You knew you’d lie. You’d say you gave up and just took care of business right in the center of the living room. Micky would tell you that was too much information and walk away awkwardly. And the others would nod in acknowledgement and go about their business.

You felt so awesome around Peter, and with Peter, like no one else made you feel. So why couldn’t you tell anyone else? It should be easy.

No, you knew why. Because you’d get asked when you were getting married. You’d get personal questions and the others would tease you and feel they were entitled to your sex life, as would the fans and neighbors. Neither you nor Peter really liked sharing. Except with each other. You didn’t even know what you two would call your relationship.

While you mulled all of this over, your attention drifted to someone sitting on the balcony, moving slightly. When you finally came back to reality, you noticed it was Peter. His hand gripped and stroked smoothly along the shaft of his penis, his head thrown back as he tried to relieve himself. Admittedly, you’d never seen him so... _involved_. Usually your alone time with him was passive, practical, only passionate once in a blue moon. But he seemed to enjoy this. Were you wrong somehow? Was he just messed up or something?

You started so hard that your hand shot out and smacked the door. At the noise, Peter started as well and hurried to tuck himself back in. You shook your hand as it stung with pain, a slight distraction from your arousal. “ _Shit_ ,” you hissed.

“I didn’t--you just--shit, (y/n), I thought you’d go somewhere else,” he stammered. “I’m, I noticed this soon when we made plans to split off. You took enough time I thought you’d gone to someone else.”

You searched your brain for who you could’ve chosen other than Peter. Finding no one, you shook your head. “Who’d you think would be that someone?”

“Uh...not me?” You rolled your eyes, a scoff falling from your mouth. “(y/n), please, I’m sorry, even this is way too much for you. Just me jerking off, you don’t wanna see that.”

“For all you know.”

“It’s private!”

“Peter!” you practically yelled. He froze and stared at you. You threw your shirt off, leaving it inside as you walked onto the balcony. “No offense, but you’re not so painfully horny that everything’s a fucking obstacle. And we’ve fucked enough that it should be okay. You’re the only person I want to see me like this. Now I don’t care right now if _you_ want to be vulnerable. I still trust you with this. You get so much shit but I know you.” You sank down, each of your legs draped over one of his. “Besides, you’ve fantasized about this. Me begging you.” His face burned. He avoided your gaze for a few moments but then looked back at you. “What?”

“People can see you.” He pointed to the other windows of the flats nearby. Without moving from where you sat, you glanced around. Then you shrugged.

“It’s so late, who the fuck would be out this late? Come _on_ , Peter,” you scooted up to him.

“(y/n),” he hesitated strongly, pressing back into the wall. You mentally slapped yourself. What were you _doing_? You weren’t trying to intimidate him, you were there to get rid of this feeling.

“I’m sorry,” you started. “I can’t think normally, man, all I can think about is...fuck, just _you._ I can’t unsee you touching yourself. It was hot, but I know I shouldn’t look unless you want me to. If you want me to go--”

“No, wait,” he held up a hand. “Can you... _shit,_ sorry.” Peter’s erection hadn’t subsided since you saw him touching himself. You rubbed against it with your thigh and he gasped. “Oh, do that again.”

You stifled a laugh as you repeated your motion. “How’s that?” you grinned.

He melted beneath you, his hands reaching for your hips. “No, hold on, (y/n),” he gasped between little cries of pleasure. “This is about you.”

“You first, babe,” you offered. You palmed his erection through his pants. “This won’t go away by itself.”

“Neither will yours,” he sat up in defiance. With more speed than you thought he had in him, he’d pinned you to the ground and straddled you.

“Have you been a top this whole time?!” you demanded breathlessly as he took off his pants. He didn’t respond as he undid yours. You lifted your ass so he could get them off all the way, same with your underwear. You rephrased your question. “ _Are_ you a top?”

“Versatile,” was all he said. And suddenly his head dipped low, his mouth against your inner thigh. You squirmed as you felt one of his hands tease just inches away from your most sensitive area. Your head tilted back as far as it’d go, and your neck arched, followed by your back when he finally moved exactly where you burnt the hottest. You gave a strange little cry of surprised excitement and you felt Peter laugh, as did you, draping your arms over your face. You let them fall again as you brought your head up.

“You’d think I’d have made every weird noise I could by now,” you joked, hoping to alleviate your own embarrassment. Peter took his mouth off of you and shrugged.

“We learn something new everyday,” he pointed out.

“Like what?”

“Like this,” he cocked an eyebrow at you as one of his hands played with your genitals in a way you hadn’t thought to do before. But you threw your head back again and let him hear all the weird noises he was helping you make.

You were hit with the most lucid thought you’d had all day: you were enjoying this. You weren’t ashamed of sounding like you were and you were relaxing, meandering towards a climax.

“ _Peter_ ,” his name came out in a hot breath as you tumbled over the edge, your fluids spilling into his mouth. You took a moment before you tried talking again. “Peter, can we…” He pulled back and the pain started to creep back in. Some of it was gone but it persisted, teasing you for not getting what you really craved. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“What do you need, (y/n)?” he rasped. You could feel yourself getting excited again when you saw how your fluids dripped from his red, wet mouth. You bit down hard on your lip.

“I...I’m sorry if this sounds sentimental or gooey as fuck, but I don’t care. You want to help me, yes?”

“How kinky are we getting?”

“I want you to come inside me, and while you do, I want you to look right at me and _show_ me if you really care. If you don’t then show that instead.”

He nodded, his face tensing up in worry--what was wrong? Was he scared? Ashamed? He was so distant now, you hadn’t a clue. “I’m gonna go get a condom, okay?” You gave him a weak thumbs up as you caught your breath. He paused as he watched you for a moment. You looked back at him as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

Before he got up, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and pressed his own against yours. Your breaths mingled, your lips barely touching. Your eyes went misty when it finally hit you what was behind that gaze. Concern, desire, trust, all wrapped up with love. He didn’t need to tell you how he’d been feeling. You could see it in his face. You’d cracked him open. And all you had to do was drink the wrong thing.

He left you there to recover for what felt like too long. When he returned, he sat in front of you and put protection on as quickly as he could. You spread your legs smoothly, a familiar gesture. He checked your entrance with one finger, then two, but you grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him forward.

He cut to the chase and slid inside of you. The two of you fell into your normal rhythm, but something felt different this time. Peter kept looking at you, as you’d asked, and as a result you actually began to thrust back, echoing his progressively more desperate moans with your own noises.

“(y/n), I’m gonna, _ah_ ,” he groaned as his thrusting fell out of your normal slow rhythm and he went into you at new angles, hitting your spot and making you cry so loud that you knew you’d disturb a few households. You cupped your hand around his cheek and guided him to look at you. He hesitated, glancing down at your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Peter, look at me,” you said immediately, and he did. Seeing your own loving gaze reflected in his brought you close, but you held off until he could do what you asked. You failed to hold back as he orgasmed, his whole body feeling the effects, and you came almost exactly at the same time.

He wasted no time in pulling out of you, taking the condom off and tying it. With a lazy toss, he threw it over the edge of the balcony. It slapped on the ground below a few seconds later. You made grabby hands at him, and he helped you sit up.

“I think I’m good.” You snorted, your legs shaking a little, and your core sore from all the sensual abuse. “You, uh...you sure know how to show me a good time.” He just sat there, looking at you and smiling. You looked back, tilting your head.

“Did we come at the same time?” You tried to think back. When you remembered, your eyes went wide and you nodded quickly. He laughed. “That only happens like...that happens with people who’re really close, you know.”

“Like us?” He didn’t reply. “Peter, I don’t want to make you think too hard, but if we uh. If we had to tell someone, hypothetically, what this is, what would that thing be? Hypothetically.”

He looked right at you. “I’m your boyfriend.” You stared in surprise and he panicked. “I mean, if you want me to be! I’m, I think you’re great and we can’t really go back from this. But I do... _shit_ , now I’m getting flustered again.”

“Peter, do you love me?” you blurted, confused and worried. He took your face in his hands.

“(y/n), whatever love is, it’s all of that and more with you. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be seen with than you.” You kissed him briefly and told him you loved him too. “How’s the pain?”

“Gone.”

“All of it?”

“Most of it. But I think the rest would go away if we went back and cuddled.”

Peter gasped quietly. “Oh my god. All that sex and we’ve never cuddled once.”

“Well, let’s make up for it.”

“Hell yeah. Come on!”

“Wait!” you stopped him as you struggled to your feet. “I need pants, Pete, give me a sec.” You put on your underwear, stared tiredly at your actual pants, and gave up. “Good enough. Let’s go.”

Peter lost it at that moment and he started back to his room, sans his own pants. Somewhere on the way, he decided the couch was comfier. You laid on top of him, claiming you were trying to keep him from “exposing himself.” He reminded you that cuddling was okay. It took a good fifteen minutes of shifting before you found a comfy position on top of him. You fell asleep, breathing in sync with him, ready for whatever questions the others would ask the morning after. But for now, you were safe, warm, and content with Peter’s and your weirdness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is longer and took me the most time i'm sort of proud of it i guess


	5. Micky/Reader - Observations and Two Conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You chose Micky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i was wrong this has hair pulling as a kink i'm s ORRY

You knocked on the door to Micky’s secret room--well, his  _lab_. When you didn’t hear anything after a whole two seconds, you murmured, “Fuck it,” and threw open the door.

The room stretched about eight feet in both directions and the ceiling hung about six-and-a-half feet from the concrete floor. In every nook and cranny there seemed to be a beaker bubbling, or an invention lying dormant waiting for an unsuspecting person to wind it up and make it make noise. Truth be told, you’d only been in here twice: once when you first stumbled upon it while drunk (and proceeded to make a mess, though there wasn’t much in there to begin with), and another time after Micky had claimed it for his inventions. That second time had been a week or so ago. From what he explained, it was basically a self-playing harmonica. “Needs work,” was all you said after a demonstration in which your ears were left ringing. But now, you couldn’t seem to see where Micky had left it, partly for your cloudy brain and partly because you didn’t know this room like he did.

You could see Micky hunched over at his swivel stool in front of the desk. You walked further into the room slowly, still having some difficulty walking. Without saying a word, you threw your arms around his neck and buried your face in the back of his neck, getting a noseful of his hair. Micky started briefly. You heard him wipe his face and sniffle. “(y/n),” he greeted you. “Hey.”

“Why are you crying?” you murmured against his skin. He shivered in your arms.

“This is my fault, I should’ve moved it in here.”

“Aw, Micky!” you pulled back, sinking onto the desk beside him and trying to catch his eye. “You couldn’t have known.”

“But I did! I said I tested it on myself and I had to...well, you know,” he blushed, running a hand through his hair. You suddenly imagined grabbing a fistful of it and tugging his head back so he could look at you. You glanced away, shocked but still thinking about it.

“Well, you said you’d help me, right?” you asked him, your voice deepening. The change made Micky finally look up at you, his lips parting a little. All you could think about now was thrusting yourself into that pretty little mouth. “So, help me, please. I want you to touch me,” you scooted so you were right in front of him, “I know you know how to do it.” He sat up a little straighter and smiled a little.

“That’s all you had to say,” he looked right at you. Just the way he looked at you with such adoration and gratefulness, you nearly came in your pants right there. If only you’d been so lucky. Instead, you groaned softly and spread your legs. He undid the button on your jeans and got about halfway down the zipper when it caught on something. “Goddamnit,” he muttered, to which you laughed and uncaught the bit of fabric keeping the zipper still. You undid the rest of the zipper and pushed your pants off, throwing them across the room.

“I was kinda hoping those would knock something over,” you admitted, a little embarrassed at how exposed you were.

“Why?”

“Because it’d be funny, and it’d make the others think we were having some really fucking wild sex.”

“(y/n)!” Micky blushed even harder as he laughed.

“What?! It would be _great_!” You wanted to say more, but he practically ripped off your underwear and dropped it to the side. His hands worked on you, slowly teasing and listening to how you responded each time he found somewhere new.

You squirmed. With how much he was teasing you, and _not with his mouth_ , you couldn’t see an end in sight. The pressure in your crotch didn’t let up, pounding harder as he touched you exactly where you responded best. “Micky, I need... _fuck_ ,” you tried to talk but all words failed you.

“What do you need? Anything, (y/n).” You looked down at him. _God_ , his mouth. The words came flooding back.  

“Put your fucking mouth on me or I’ll scream.” He obeyed, _God_ did he obey. His mouth found everywhere that made you moan and you gripped the edge of the desk with both hands, your head falling back. You stopped caring how loud you were being, partly because you could feel the pain start to subside and a more real, pressing arousal was supplanting it. Everything melted away except you and Micky and the pleasure radiating from your core.

This went on for a while, and you could feel how close you were getting to climax. But something wasn’t quite there. You kept imagining in your brain your hand entangled in his hair, pulling at it. You figured he’d be fine if you, you know, rested it on top, but you didn’t want that. You wanted to dominate him. And from the commands you’d been giving as he continued, you were doing that. But you had to prove it.

“Micky,” you gasped. He murmured an “mm-hmm?” and the vibration on your core sent pleasure flooding through you. “Micky, can I...can I pull your hair?” He stopped for a moment and looked up at you, his mouth covered in your fluid. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just, I keep thinking about it and I want to--”

“Yes, _please_ ,” he stopped you in your tracks. “I’m...shit, sorry, I’m starting to get hot too, but this is about you. Please.”

“Well then,” you raised an eyebrow. You reached down and tugged his hair gently. He gazed up at you, his mouth wide open.

“ _Harder_ ,” he pleaded.

“Beg me,” you demanded.

“Please, (y/n),” he practically sobbed. “I want you so bad, I want you to feel good, I wanna help you, I feel so bad.”

That was enough for you. You gripped his hair and tugged harder. He threw his head back and cried out in ecstasy, and moments later he returned his mouth to your crotch, and you echoed his cry, following it with softer but more desperate moans as he introduced a finger into your entrance. The sensation of him inside you made your hand clench tighter in his hair and you tugged even harder. He moaned around you and you did the same. Your toes curled in pleasure as he added a second finger and you made all manner of noises.

As you reached your peak, you blurted: “I, I love you.” He looked up at you, stilling for a moment. He resumed as you continued, the words falling out between moans and groans. “I love the things you make and I love your voice and your eyes and your hair and your _mouth_ and how nervous you are and how eager you are to please and how you’re kinda freaky and how... _oh Christ_...how much you care.”

“Of course I care,” his eyes shone as he popped off to speak. “I love you, (y/n), I’ve been in love with you for months now. You’re so fucking beautiful. Come on, (y/n), come on!” He encouraged you, his hands a blur.

“Micky!” Every cell in your body exploded like fireworks. Your voice hit a new octave as you came on his face and hunched over, steadying yourself on the desk with your hands. You felt him press a kiss to the inside of your thigh and you smiled ever so slightly. He reached for a paper towel roll at his feet and cleaned himself (and you) off, tossing the dirty paper towel into the trash can by the door. “Wow,” you sighed, your legs still shaking. “Where’d you learn to do all that?”

He covered his face with his hands. “(y/n)!” he giggled, though you could tell he appreciated it.

“No, seriously,” you told him. The pain in your belly was a dull, barely noticeable throb. More importantly, you felt more aware and relaxed than you had earlier. “Seriously, Mick, that was crazy good.” You pulled him a little closer and cradled his face in your hands. “I can’t imagine anyone being more important to me than you. All this stuff you do, it’s awesome.”

“You don’t hate my inventions?”

“No, why would I?” He reached down and handed you your underwear as he shrugged. “Oh, you mean the drink? Whatever, man,” you hopped off the desk and put them back on. “Next time, label it. Or put like velcro on it so when I pick it up, I’ll go, ‘Hey, this isn’t mine.’” You glanced around the room for your pants. “You didn’t like evaporate my pants, did you?”

“It’s hot enough in here, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Micky joked. You rolled your eyes at him. “Sorry, that was dumb. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, better,” you finally found them and put them back on. “Not like, perfect, I think the thing’s still working on me, but a lot of the pain’s gone.” As you were redoing the button, you noticed Micky get up and come stand in front of you. You glanced up at him once your pants were on. “I meant what I said. I didn’t come in here to teach you a lesson or make you uncomfortable. I trust you. I wouldn’t trust anybody else with something as embarrassing or sensitive as that.” He smiled and pecked your lips with his. “I also wanna do this more often, if that’s okay with you.”

Micky nodded and hummed his agreement. “Does that mean you can also help me with my experiments?”

“If you mean will I willingly ingest strange drinks to see if they work, then _no_ ,” you folded your arms. “If it’s anything else, then yes.”

“No more drinks,” he promised. “Scout’s honor.”

“You’re not a scout.”

“I know, that’s why it’s an honor.” You snorted.

“Okay. I really don’t feel like going out there again.  Can we just like…”

“Stay here? Sure,” he agreed. “Hold on, I think there’s a chair here somewhere…”

“Nah, I’ll just sit here,” you hopped up on the desk again. Micky blushed and glanced away.

“I’m…(y/n), hold on, let me find you a chair. If you sit there, I’ll keep thinking about you, you know.” He rooted around fruitlessly in a pile of junk for a few moments.

“I don’t mind.”

He stopped looking. “You don’t?”

You shrugged. “I’m sitting here, and that’s that. I want you to be proud of what you’ve accomplished.” He looked at you. Then he snorted. “Come here,” you leaned down and patted the stool. He joined you. It was nearly two hours before any of the others found you.


End file.
